JAXSON
EVERY PHOTO SHOOT HAD ITS challenges, but I had to remember that the models were always my top priority.
Sure, I had all the gear and made all the preparations, but without happy models, there was no shoot.
Keep them happy and motivated, and don’t expect them to do anything they aren’t comfortable with. I’d learned this early on.
Today proved to challenge every single thing I knew. Tyra was a dream. She didn’t have any problems with jumping overboard, posing with the lifesaver as her top, or even straddling the ship’s wheel.
Micha, on the other hand, refused to get naked in front of the yacht crew. Which meant no overboard shots, no playful water shots, and no climbing aboard shots. At least not topless or bottomless.
The thing was, my campaign had been built on being edgy. Each shot pushed to the very limit of acceptable nudity.
It was who I was, as an artist, and a person, I supposed.
With Micha, I didn’t want to settle for mediocre, so it took a lot more time than I had planned to get the images of her I wanted.
The shoot of the day was all about being nautical. Captain’s hats, life preservers, lines, white jackets.
Thank fuck we had an itty-bitty bikini with anchors all over it to appease Micha. I’d Photoshop out the top on my computer when I edited the photos, but I had to position her just right to be able to get away with it.
This took time.
A lot of it.
The yacht hummed along at over forty knots, skimming the water like a blade over ice. It was moving, just not fast enough for me.
The coast was nothing but a blur of blue and green from where we were. My phone had no signal, and I itched to check on Sadie. To confront the motherfucker. To make a call.
I stared ahead as the horizon got larger and larger and we cruised straight into the cloudless blue sky. Feeling anxious, I stood and moved toward the back, looking at the water’s surface as it sparkled in the sunlight.
By the time we even got near the harbor, the carnival was in full swing. Spicemas, as it was called, was a two-day Grenada tradition, and I knew tomorrow’s shoot was going to be altered.
The carnival had been postponed from August due to the hurricane weather and capturing the celebration of African, French, British, and Caribbean heritage tradition on the beach was going to be some of the most unique work Sports Illustrated had ever seen.
Not that I was being cocky about it, but I could see it now. Neon swimsuits and feathers. Fruit baskets. The nudity would be subtle. The colors bold.
I snickered to myself thinking all the bright colors were going to push Sadie’s limits. She was a black and white girl who lived in the gray, right where I lived.
The yacht entered the marina. The engines that moments ago throttled in the open water slowed.
I said my goodbyes and grabbed my gear before we docked. After I locked my shit in the car, I sprinted to the harbormaster’s office.
A tall, thin man stood on the deck in front of the door. He was throwing squid into the sea. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt, white Dockers, and white boat shoes with a navy hat that read, “Shipmaster.”
I cleared my throat.
He turned. “Can I help you, son?”
I went to stand beside him since he didn’t stop what he was doing. “Yes, I’m looking for a boat, a yacht, actually, by the name of Moongate.”
The master paused in his movements. “You looking for the vessel or the man who owns it?”
I squinted against the sun reflecting off the water. “The man, sir.”
He looked over at me. “Friend or foe?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, not really. Other than I don’t like the guy. Too big for his britches, if you know what I mean.”
The laugh I expelled wasn’t voluntary. This guy was up and up sailor. Straight talking and to the point. I knew the type. “To be honest,” I said, “he’s upset my girl, and I want to talk to him.”
The guy set his bucket down and wiped his hands on a towel before offering me his palm. “Name’s Johnny. Yours?”
“Sundance,” I said out of habit. Everyone except Sadie called me that.
He raised a brow. “Well, Sundance, he took off yesterday for Miami.”
“Is he coming back?”
“I’m sure he will be. Next month like clockwork.”
A boat horn honked as it passed and Johnny waved then turned and headed toward the building. There were two chairs outside the shabby building and he took a seat. I followed him, feeling like he had more to say, just wasn’t sure if he should.
Once I sat, I crossed one ankle over my knee and leaned back. “What’s his story?”
The old man snorted. “What makes you think he has one?”
“Everyone has one.”
He laughed. “Yes, they do.”
“So what’s his?”
The old man took his hat off, and his grey hair blew in the wind as he leaned forward. Like he had a secret to share. I leaned forward, too.
“He belongs to Mrs. Montague.”
I pulled my lip with my teeth. “Mrs. Montague?”
“You’re not from around here?”
I shook my head. “Atlanta, sir.”
“Yeah, should have figured you were a southern boy like him.”
I shivered. “With all due respect, I’m nothing like him, sir.”
He grinned. “I believe you. Have a sense for this kind of thing.”
“Kind of thing?”
“The bad ones.”
“And he’s a bad one?”
“Through and through. No one else sees it though. He charms them with his dazzling smile, exceptional manners, and expensive clothes, but anyone who agrees to do what he has agreed to, has to be bad to the bone.”
Riveted that this man has Simon pegged, I pushed. “What has he agreed to do?”
He pulled a twizzle stick from his pocket and started chewing on it. “Now, this isn’t something that can be broadcasted. I only know about it because of my position. People around here trust me. But I can see in your eyes you’re worried about your girl, so I’m going to put your mind at ease.”
At ease. I doubted that. “Go on.”
“Sidney McCray has been working for Mrs. Montague for over five years, and in that time he’s never dared step out on her, around here, anyway. Not with a male or female.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face. That information didn’t mean shit to me. I didn’t give a flying fuck who he screwed. “That doesn’t really put me at ease.”
He looked confused. “Aren’t you worried he’s trying to go after your girl?”
I looked up. “No, sir, I’m not. I’m worried he’s trying to ruin her.”
His eyes popped. “Well then, I’m not sure his exclusivity clause with Mrs. Montague applies.”
I had to ask. “What exactly is his arrangement with her?”
He looked to the right and then the left. “It’s a little sick if you ask me, but the old woman misses her husband and not the companionship, if you know what I mean.”
I shook my head. “Not really, sure.”
“Christ, son, haven’t you ever had sex?”
My laughter roared. “Yes, sir, I have.”
“Well, she’s a horny old lady who doesn’t care about cock. Sidney was hired for his tongue services. The arrangement is, once a month he comes down here for a three-day stretch, and while he’s here, or so I’m told, he eats her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
I cringed right there. He really was a sick fuck.
“Now, I’ve seen the way he looks at my crew, and I think he’s sweet on men, which is why he doesn’t care his only job is to service her pussy.”
This time I choked out loud.
“But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“No, sir.”
“So he travels via boat?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”
Okay, not helpful.
“Mrs. Montague is the richest woman in the Caribbean. She has a jet, a yacht, and is in the process of acquiring an airline.”
“Moongate,” I blurted out.
“Yes,” he laughed. “She even allowed him to rename the boat from the Mr. M, after her dead husband, to that. I’m guessing that entailed snacks between meals.”
I cringed again. “So basically he gets whatever he wants in exchange for making her happy?”
The old man nodded. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
I pretended to zip my lips and stood, offering my hand. “It was good not talking to you, sir.”
“Likewise.”
Simon had left for Miami. He wouldn’t be back here until next month. At least we had that.
Once I was in my car, I made the call I hadn’t ever expected to make.
“Dr. Kissinger,” he answered. Dr. Jake Kissinger, the white knight who swept Jules Easton off her feet. The girl I had once been engaged to marry, but never actually proposed to, had married him, and as I heard his deep voice, I was happy she had someone she really, truly, loved.
Shit, had I grown or what?
I pulled out of my parking spot. “Jake, it’s Sundance. How are you?”
“Great. How’s the Caribbean?”
The roads were jammed, and traffic was slower than shit. “Can’t complain.”
“You calling for Jules,” he didn’t ask, “I’m in my office, but I can tell her that you called. She probably doesn’t have her phone turned on.”
“No,” I said. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor and if you don’t want to do it, no hard feelings.”
“If I can help, I will. What is it?”
As I jerked to a million sudden stops and let costumed men and women pass in front of me, I told him about Riley Houston. Not that Sadie had run him over; just that she was worried about him. I didn’t want him to be an accomplice if it came to that.
“Give me an hour or so. I’m not on staff at Savannah Memorial, but I can make a few calls.”
As I slammed on the brakes again, I never wished for traffic lights like I did now. “You sure you’re cool with this? It’s not a violation of medical ethics or anything?”
“Don’t sweat it, man. A simple inquiry into a kid’s condition isn’t going to have the medical review board reigning down on me.”
“Okay, great then. Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
“Let’s pray you like what I find out,” he said, and then hung up.
Pray.
Yeah, I would be doing that.
On my knees, if I had to.